I miss you.

I miss you so much it hurts.

English literary always romanticized sadness but it’s not supposed to be poetic. Not when you’re whole body is aching for a pain that isn’t physically there. Not when your heart errs for feeling of emptiness and all the shouts you directed through the void is futile. Not when the brain keeps on replaying the moments that trigger where it hurts.

It is not poetic, but there is something grotesquely beautiful on the words that a broken heart evokes. It conjures a story that makes you feel, albeit morosely.

I’ve never wanted to forget anyone this much. I don’t want to remember you anymore. But I do. I always do.

After all the fighting and the anger and the begging, I ‘m just so exhausted and I want to sleep it all off. When you stripped me of all the rights to keep you by my side, how did you expect me to go on, when you knew all along that you were my life support? The pain muted all my protest and in between throwing a pity-party for myself and my reflex to hurt you back, I let the tides take me instead.

It feels like falling down the abyss, screaming for salvation only to be greeted by my own echo because really, you weren’t going to save me. And I hated you for it for a while but then I just feel so sad and empty after the rage subsides.

I hated you, then cursed you and then hated you some more because you have ruined me to other men. How can you expect me to give my all to someone else when you took half of me when you left? How is it fair to be asking someone to give me more than I can offer? I don’t even think I have enough to give to anyone when I barely have some myself. How do I move on from you when I clearly gave you my all?

I don’t want to hold on to my sadness. But I can’t let it go as well. How can I, when all this time you taught me how to live and even after you left this sadness you gave me is the only connection to life I have.

Even now, you remain the anchor to my reality. You were the semicolon when all I wanted was to put a period to my sentence. Even though I have no hold on you, you still managed to influence my life in a way that makes me nurse my sadness if only to hold on to what little of you I have left.

Even in melancholy, you still made me feel. I hate you for it. But I love you even more. I wish I could have loved you more. I wish that my love would have been enough to make you stay.

Sometimes, when I am drunk in emotional stupor, I wish so hard that you never left. I gave you my frail heart and you trampled on it and even then you are still the only one who can put it back together. I hope you realized that you will always hold the best parts of me even if you tore me to millions of pieces.

And I just miss you.

But I can’t afford to always miss you anymore.

Because now I have to miss me, too. I miss the me before there was you. And if I keep thinking of you, I may not have her back, so I will miss you a little less now.

J x F | 08.20.18
J x F | 08.20.18


I always have fond memories of you. From the moment we met, to that awkward first date, to celebrating birthdays and Christmases and New Years together to downright celebrating the smallest achievements, I remember them.

Although, I wish I didn’t.

I remember how the early morning sun touches your face and in my eyes it lights up a crevice that I thought I buried and emptied. I remember how your hair is caressed by the spring breeze like the meadows. I remember so vividly.

I really wish I didn’t, though.

You have no idea of this gaping hole you left in me. No amount of distraction could ever fill the void that my heart is falling in to. How do I erase you from my head? From my system? From my heart? You should have taught me how to do it before you left.

Now, everything reminds me of you. Even just by breathing, I am reminded of you. Because everything of my everyday revolved around you and now that you are gone how am I supposed to keep my world in its orbit?

But I am nothing without memories of you. This reminder of the time we spent together had been what made me, Me. And although I’d sometimes wish to give it back, deep in my heart I’d never really forget it.

You hurt me. You have caused me inexplicable pain and sorrow. You fueled my anger. But despite that, you also loved me. You made me happier than anything or anyone in this world ever could. You taught me how to feel. And I had been made alive ever since.

That is why, even thought this memory might be a burden for me now, I know you always intended it to be a gift from the start.


How do I go about this, Emilyo?

I am not new to feelings of loss. I’ve lost a lot of people, but this is so sudden, so new, so raw, so impossibly painful it grips my heart dearly. In what universe did you expect me to accept this gracefully?

Emil, I am a selfish person as you have known long ago. I was always vocal on my personality as to not mislead people I keep close to my circle. But you, you were always so selfless, so humble and so bright in all the smiles you give to people, not just those whose company you keep.

I feel so sorry, my dear. I feel guilty to be given this type of chance at life that you have been robbed with. Compare to all the potential you have yet to explore, I idle my days away thinking that life is so chaotic and I don’t want to partake on any of its mess. But there you are, surviving, thriving through it all. I am embarrassed to show this weak side of me. You were always the strong one. So how is this loss not gonna be a void I would feel in a while?

I’ve said many goodbyes, this one for you will be one I shall force myself to make because I know it will bring you peace. Between the time of your death and heaven, what is there? I’ll miss you. I’ll never forget you. Goodbye and goodnight, my dear.

You’ve Been Gone Longer Than We Had You

To my little infinity

It’s been 14 years. That’s 7 times more than the amount of time you stayed and kept us company. 7 more times than the life you were given to live. I miss you. And even if you’re not coming back, I’ll still miss you.

One more time, this Ate of yours writes a letter of loss like it’s just yesterday when you left. It’s been so long and still this dull ache wont fade. My memories are blurred to the times you were still here. I’ve almost forgotten the sound of your laugh and your voice is a distant echo in my head and yet, here I am writing you letters I know you’ll never receive.

Sorry, my love. I have burdened you with the responsibility of carrying this sadness I harbor. Often times than not, I feel like I make excuses of the beginning of this perpetual feelings when I lost you. It probably has to do with the fact that your loss was the first I truly felt my heart break. I’m sorry for putting this in your fragile shoulders.

I miss you.

I love you.

With so much love,



Women are books. They carry vast knowledge about life, love and everything in between those. They have within them this secret in nurturing just about anything. They have ways in comforting even the soul.

They are books: magnificent in their cut and illustrations as they are elegant in their content and form. A woman though endowed with all these will never be understood by all. Mostly because she is written in a language that they don’t speak.

There will be some who will understand parts of her because they are similar in a way, some who will emulate and even imitate the best parts of her, some who will highlight a sentence or two, add-in their own version of her originality and then there are those who will rip pages from her and take with them. All of these will define her, eventually.

And then someone will come, they will pick her from the pile, dust-off her dirtied cover, open her and understand what is written even if they don’t speak the same. They will leaf through the pages of her wisdom and indulge in the beauty of her intelligence. They will caress her and memorize line from her stories.

Women are books. They hold a world inside them. Don’t read them if you aren’t adventurous. Don’t read them if you are afraid to be enlightened. Don’t read them carelessly and aimlessly. They are books that can be a burden. So unless you don’t mind the weight of responsibility, I suggest you put it down and let someone else more deserving to carry them.


One More Light [Linkin Park: Chester Bennington]

My introduction to Linkin Park was back in 2000. I heard “In The End” playing on the radio. No, I heard it playing everywhere. It was an anthem for the teenage angst of that year along with “Crawling” and “Points of Authority”.

Back in those days, I did not understand nor appreciate the screaming voice popular in the alternative genre. A child does not usually comprehend the depth of lyrics, yet.

In 2003, they released their best-selling album to date with Meteora which included tracks that resonated personally to me. I knew by heart the lyrics to “Numb”, “Faint”, “Somewhere I Belong” and “Breaking The Habit”.

At this juncture, I have become a fan of the band and followed their releases closely. The songs resonate a darker part of my heart and it comforted me in a way that they give voice to that silence I nurse.

As a teenager, Linkin Park was a constant in my playlist. They introduced me to the world of Alternative-Rock and they have been one of my most beloved band ever since.

My musical genre is by no means narrow. I listen to classicals, jazz, blues, ballads, French Music, Latino, JPop,and Kpop to name a few.

But as I said, the voice of Chester singing “Iridiscent” or “Leave Out All the Rest” or “Shadow of the Day” or even “Until It’s Gone” continues to echo a part of me I rarely communicate to.

There is a reason why I would never read 13 Reasons Why and why I would never see it, ever. Because thats a trigger I dont want in my life.

Mental health issues are real. People need to understand that like many sickness, it is real and its plaguing our society. More so in this point in time than any other time in human history. Stop turning a blind eye on mental health! Its real and it needs to be confronted. Stop the stigma about mental health!

It had been a beautiful run, Chester. Your voice inspired many people and I’m sorry we could not do the same for you when you needed it. I know there is not rest in suicide but at the very least, things that haunted you in this life, I hope you dont get them in your next.

One More Light
Linkin Park


You play about it like you have endless tomorrows. You keep to yourself what your heart truly desires. You keep holding back. Satisfied with the crumbs you get.

Don’t. Don’t  be like that. You have not enough time to be alive, let alone be in love. Dont take it for granted. Time is a cruel enemy. Even more ruthless than reality. Because reality maybe altered. But time isn’t as flexible.

You don’t have the luxury to hesitate on the things you know could make you happy. Live now. One day you are 10 trying to be friends with everyone in school. The next you are 18 trying to smoke, drink and have sex. Tomorrow you might be 35 hating the world and regretting all the chances you wasted. The day after, you might be 60 wondering where all the time went and the love you had at 5 was.

You cannot always trust to have time in your hand. Some of us are lucky to have a year more. Others don’t even have a month left. So take advantage of time you have. Maybe that’s all you’ll ever have. Whether it is enough depends on you.

Kimi no Na Wa | Tachibana Taki x Miyamizu Mitsuha

2 AM Atrocity


That’s what it was/is. What else could it possibly be but utter havoc? The organize shambles flooding my mind in the wee hours of the morning. Ah, limbo!

When the world is barely alive and the silence and darkness envelops a person, making him more aware of how utterly minute and inconsequential he is compared to everything else. Or make you feel at ease and entertain the desires burried in the deep crevices of our logical selves.

At 2AM, you realize there is less noise from the throng of people. No screaming, no angry discourse, just murmurs of voices that tickles your ears like the birds of spring. There is less judgment in the crowd of tired bodies and pale faces. Maybe because they are also trapped in their on tragic travesty.  There is little more courage in your veins offered by the dark. We may be afraid of the uncertainty but its outweighed by the very excitement thrumming in your skin.

There is something during this time that makes me want to leave the confines of my head but still wrap myself in the comforts of my bed.

What are you thinking?

I think about the nonsense, the past, the present, tomorrow and then 10 years from now.

I think of the love I lost at 11. And the boy who broke my heart at 13. I think of all the days I went to school and try hard to remember the people I shared them with. The blur of faces dont quite align with the names I could still recall.

I think about one stupid thing after another that I want to forget. Then I think of the if’s and maybe’s. I dwell on the endless possibilities I wasted and I have yet to open myself up to.

Then a familiar hum and suddenly I’m searching for songs I listened to when I was 15. I was a bundle of emotions waiting to explode then. What happened? What have I done?

Then a memory. A trigger. A laughter or tear may come after. What am I doing? Stop it. I’m tired. I want to sleep. Somedays you go to bed aware that you have gone to bed. Other days you just let it all go and dont even remember the moment your mind gave you reprieve. Then there’s those days where your head just cant stop and you see the early light of dawn creeping in your window.

What are you thinking?
Where are your thoughts taking you?

End of the Road [Dialogue Diaries]

Him: I didnt think we’d end up here.

Her: And where is that?

Him: Going at each other trying to inflict the most damage with our sharp words.

Her: We were so in love.

Him: We still are. Love was never what we lacked.

Her: But we are not the type of people who sustains their relationship with love alone.

Him: But I love you.

Her: I love you too.

Him: But this is not working anymore. We’re not working anymore.

Her: I know.

Text has no relation whatsoever with the picture or the anime.
Kuzu no Honkai [HANABI YASURAOKA] | (c) Kamisei Hana

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